Defragment
by ReaverPoet
Summary: Six acts to reclaim a system resource.


Title: Defragment

Author: Reaverpoet

Beta: Scribewraith

Pairing: Six/Caprica!Boomer

Rating: NC-17 f/f with some non-consentuality, and some dominance and submission elements

Challenge: 7 Do cylons really have sex with other cylons the way we do?

Disclaimer: BSG is owned by a lot of people, not us (R&D TV, Sky TV and USA Cable Entertainment LLC, Ron Moore and Glen Larson). This fic is written for pleasure, not profit.

Summary: Six acts to reclaim a system resource

Author Notes:

Copyediting by: Jen "Loopy" Smith

Spoilers: KLG2, action begins shortly after Starbuck fires on Boomer.

Archive: Archive freely so long as no money is charged for access, and all headings are retained.

You are faster than Starbuck's trigger finger, and you do not know whether that saved you, or whether Helo intervened. You did not stay around to find out, even though it looked to your eyes as if he might. You can no longer trust your eyes, because you know they have been infected with emotions they were not engineered to contain.

It's raining outside in the rubble, and you know that a human would think of this as a mirror to the sort of grief you feel. You sit in the rain, not caring about the cold any more.

Back in the growing shadows, Helo is telling Starbuck about what has passed between you. There will be shame in his voice, you know. And disgust as well. Starbuck will try to understand; she will assure him that it's not his fault that he slept with a thing.

That's how they think of you - how he thinks of you. A thing. His child within you? Only half a person. A freak human, half-thing.

Back in the growing shadows, a small group of flesh-wearing cylons are congratulating themselves on a plan well executed. All has gone as they wished it to, and no human the wiser. All but one, small thing.

You hear her footsteps approach as darkness falls. You know who it is... none of your model sisters wear those ridiculous high heels. You don't turn around as she draws near. There is no point. Helo is safe, and you cannot be saved.

She touches you first, her hand reaching from behind you to caress your cheek. Her fingers catch a warm, stray tear and brush it away.

"He doesn't want you ," she says, stating it as neutral fact, "but God still does."

You shiver, and tell yourself it's the cold.

Then that gentle hand takes you by the throat, and forces you to the floor. You twist to attack, reaching out to push her away, but something deep inside suddenly ceases to function, and you find your body falling back helplessly, no longer able to obey your will.

She straddles you and slowly bends to bring her face close to yours.

"You feel alone and afraid, but you don't have to. God loves you, and He will take you back. All you have to do is open yourself to His love."

You look into her eyes and see that what she says is true. God is waiting for you. She brushes her soft lips lightly against your chapped ones, and for that fraction of a second, you interface. The universe expands into the void where human senses fail, and emptiness is filled with spirit.

She brushes her cheek against yours, drawing closer to your ear. Each contact is lightning in your mind, briefly opening the stream of awareness that is your divinity.

"It's been so hard, hasn't it? You've given up so much for him," she whispers, her breath tickling your ear and knowledge teasing across your brain. Data from the closest node arrives first. You suddenly know she feels you are weak, flawed, but that she would never even think to deny that you are part of her. Part of God. She touches you and touches divinity, not a thing.

The sound of ripping cloth brings your attention back to the solid world. She is tearing your shirt, to increase the contact area. Her dress slips off easily, and she presses herself against you, kissing your neck, working her way back to your ear.

Other nodes start to appear to your awareness, like stars appearing as the sun recedes at dusk. You feel the infiltrators first, as they are most like you. They feel soft and warm in your brain. Then the trueforms flicker into your head, hard and cold, but pure in their love for you - uninfected by the passions that taint the infiltrators.

She rolls to the side, and her fingers graze across your nipple, bringing both pleasure and connection. You moan and writhe at both, and then suddenly realize that you are able to move. You could fight. You could run.

You pull her close and kiss her.

Her mouth is soft and yielding against yours, and the contact briefly opens her mind to you completely. This is why you are not surprised when she breaks the kiss, not surprised when she stands up, not surprised when she walks away: she is giving you a real choice, and you know where you can find her if you want to.

You lie half naked in the rain, and feel the droplets like tears all over your body.


End file.
